Entropy
by RattyCatty
Summary: Post-split queen, Regina merges with the Queen once more because it turns out you can't remove half of yourself without consequence. There are adjustment issues when they come together again, and Maleficent eases Regina through them.


**Talk about jumping the gun, I know, but I _really_ wanted to write this so I'm just throwing it out there ok. **

**Romantic Dragon Queen and no other pairings! This is hurt/comfort and a bucket load of angst but hope and nice ~soft~ things at the end. Enjoy~ (and maybe review if you liked it?)**

 **Warnings: Swearing and excessive(!) alcohol drinking. There's a kiss EQ-style that might be a little dub-con in nature if you squint even though neither party is hurt by it, so just be aware if that's something that affects you (stay safe~).**

* * *

She's never been much for The Rabbit Hole.

She can count the times she's been here in all her years of living in Storybrooke – nearing four decades it must be, now – on one hand. It's too loud, too raucous, too grimy, too full of sleazy men for her liking, and she's never been a fan of being drunk in public. (That is the only reason one would ever choose to come here – to get royally pissed or to hook up.)

But tonight, that's what she needs. She needs to be out of the house and she needs to be drunk and she needs that special way only the drunk and miserable ignore one another out of understanding. She needs the voices in her head to stop, and she needs to be somewhere Henry definitely won't be. (He can't ever see her like this.)

So she's here.

The world is looking more than a bit blurry and the man behind the bar – young with a bit of scruff, and inexperienced (she'd almost bitten his head off earlier when he'd spilt her drink before she caught herself) – keeps giving her Looks.

 _I'm bricking my pants and trying not to show it_ Looks.

 _I'm a second away from phoning the Sheriff_ Looks.

Which, fair enough – it's not every day you pour scotch for the woman who'd formerly been the Evil Queen before redeeming herself, splitting entirely from the Queen, and then merging with her once more. His fear might be justified.

Right now, she's more dangerous and off the rails than she has been in decades.

Even freshly born Mayor Mills hadn't been this batshit.

She'd never been this unbalanced and completely lost.

Because she had been Regina – just Regina, who loves her son with all her heart and laughs loudly and loves deeply and would never want to hurt another soul – but now the Queen is back inside her, and she's louder than ever.

It's harder to suppress something that's been allowed to run rampant for far too long.

She signals for another drink, and the bartender (poor boy) reluctantly pours her another. His hands are shaking so much that the rim of the bottle clinks against her glass. He peers up at her, silently asking if she's satisfied, perhaps silently begging her to not set him alight.

Regina rolls her eyes (that's the Queen, she thinks, because Regina would understand that sort of fear, would do _something_ to try and subtly reassure him) and makes a vague gesture. "Leave the bottle."

The boy sets the bottle down on the counter and flees to the back room before he can be caught feeding the Queen's thirst for alcohol and not cutting her off like he really should.

Smart boy.

Regina knocks back her freshly poured drink as if it's water, and then pours herself another.

She ignores how her own hands shake just as much as the boy's had – shuts out the part of her that screams _weak!_ at the top of her voice and rails against her.

"Regina," comes a purr from behind her.

And fuck, _fuck,_ she should have known this would be one of Maleficent's haunts.

That woman drinks so much that Regina is surprised it's not just alcohol running through her veins.

Cruella may have been known to be the hardest drinker of all of their bizarre bunch, but Maleficent could drink her under the table any day.

(Sleeping curse cut with sea water and gallons of the finest, richest wine and hurt sorceresses drunkenly seeking comfort in one another and yeah, this is definitely somewhere Mal would go.)

"Didn't expect to see you here," Mal muses as she seats herself on the bar stool next to Regina.

"Believe me when I say I didn't expect to be here," Regina murmurs lowly. Her words slur together a little.

Maleficent gazes at her for a bit, calculating as always, figuring out what Regina is thinking and how she should act in return.

She goes for nonchalant.

The blonde reaches for the bottle and drinks right out of it, not even bothering to ask for a glass. She sets it down on the counter and stares straight ahead. "I hear you've had quite a week."

"Did you now?" Regina says, the Queen's regal voice snapping into place defensively.

Mal hums in agreement. "I hear you merged with the Queen again."

"She needs me," Regina sneers. A second later, her eyes squeeze shut and she cocks her head to the side before seemingly shaking herself free. Her fingers grip the sticky counter. "Sorry, I–" When she opens her eyes, Maleficent is watching her with something like badly concealed concern.

"I see," Mal murmurs, never taking her eyes off Regina – Regina whose hands are trembling even as she tries her best to hide it, and whose eyes are deep and wet and _terrified._

Regina who looks so much like the girl who had come to her all those years ago, afraid and hurt and grasping for strength in whatever form she could find it in.

"You see why I'm here," Regina states lowly, trying to regain some composure.

"Quite," is all the dragon says.

Regina takes a long drink, savouring the scorch down her throat and in her chest. "We're having some... _adjustment issues,"_ the brunette admits as if she's referring to a mundane and mildly embarrassing health issue.

Before the dragon can answer, Regina is speaking again, sharp and regal. " _You're_ the one having issues. If you would just _give in_ and be strong–" Regina bites her tongue hard enough that she tastes blood. "Shut up!" she cries, as if unaware that there are other people in the room. She slams the heel of her palm against her temple as if it's as easy as beating the Queen into submission.

And then she looks up, realises that the whole exchange had taken place out loud, remembers where she is and becomes aware of the other patrons shooting her dirty looks – becomes aware of the unabashed worry on Maleficent's face.

Maleficent rarely shows her concern for anyone; Regina hasn't seen this face since she'd been a young Queen with demons in her head and bruises on her thighs.

Regina's face flushes hot, and she feels angry _, scared_ tears well up. "I really shouldn't be here," she suddenly realises, pushing away from the bar and getting to her wobbly feet. She's making herself a fucking public freak show by being here – giving everyone the satisfaction of finally seeing the Queen go completely round the bend after all these years.

She makes it two steps before stumbling.

Apparently she's drunker than she thought.

 _Shit._

There's a strong hand on her arm and suddenly a warm body against hers, holding her up, keeping her away from the sticky, solidfloor.

"Fuck," she mumbles, allowing herself to lean against her oldest friend.

"Regina," Mal says evenly. "You're going to get yourself killed if you try to go home like this."

Regina shrugs clumsily. At least that would stop her head being so _full._

 _Henry. Emma. Snow. Charming._ The rational part of her remembers all the people who love her now. Even if sometimes she can't really understand why or believe it, they do.

She remembers _she's not dying_ and _we weren't gonna let you go._

She remembers the pure rage she'd felt towards Snow White for getting Daniel killed, the rage she'd felt towards Emma for stealing Henry. She remembers a heart in her fist and sleeping curses and the thrill of casting the Dark Curse.

And then remembers that whilst she's like this – unbalanced, unpredictable, and _dangerous_ – she can't be anywhere near any of them.

Because loving _can_ be a weakness sometimes, when you love a dangerous thing and it's kill or be killed.

They may be heroes and they may be strong, but none of them are ballsy enough to kill someone they love to save themselves. They're all too _good_ and that goodness will bite them in the ass unless Regina stays away.

Regina feels a shuddering sob leave her and she doesn't quite know why.

"Let me take you home," Maleficent says, and it's the same voice she'd used back when Regina had been spiralling out of control and turning to darkness – when she hadn't cared if she lived or died, or if she was bad or good. It's the voice she uses when she knows Regina is walking a thin line and what she says could be the difference between beginning to heal and no fucking return.

Regina nods weakly, sagging in the dragon's arms.

Maleficent waves her hand and they vanish from the bar in a cloud of smoke. When they reappear, it's in Regina's vault, in one of the back rooms more furnished for sanctuary than powerful magic.

Not home, because Henry could be there. (He's staying at Emma's tonight, but he's ever so forgetful sometimes, and what if he comes back to grab his Gameboy only to find his mother blind drunk and broken instead?)

Mal always _knows_. Regina finds her chest feeling warm and intense, and it scares her because it feels so much like – it's –

It's too much and it's _wrong._

But Maleficent – she feels ever so right. She's not delicate – won't ever bend or break in Regina's hands. She's known the Queen and has even been _friends_ with her (and more), and they _work._

Maleficent lowers her onto the small bed meant for such emergencies, never letting go of the shaking woman in her arms. She goes with Regina all the way until they're sitting on the soft sheets, hips touching and knees brushing together.

"Will you be alright while I fetch you some water?" the dragon asks, her voice even and firm and never syrupy or condescending. She'd summon it, but she has a feeling Regina needs the normalcy, the grounding stability.

Regina draws back an inch, just enough to see Mal's face, and then she grasps the woman's thin wrist.

And before she knows what she's doing – the room is spinning and there are so many thoughts in her head and Mal _glows –_ Regina leans in and presses her lips hard against the blonde's.

The other woman freezes for a split second and then relaxes into it, kissing back slowly and sensually but with equal intensity.

It's probably (definitely) messy and uncoordinated and nothing like how Regina usually kisses, but Mal's lips are soft and they taste smoky and something like – orange, maybe? It's completely intoxicating and Regina doesn't – can't – even allow herself a moment to breathe.

There are hands on her shoulders and she wonders if Maleficent is inching her way towards copping a feel, but then she's being pushed gently away.

"Regina," Maleficent rumbles with a shake of her head.

The Queen rises up, fights her way to the surface, and her lip curls. "You don't want me?" she sneers. "After everything, Maleficent." And then Regina's lips are on hers again, insistent and rougher than before.

Regina's everywhere all at once, biting down on the dragon's lower lip and pushing her tongue into her mouth. The brunette straddles her (very nearly toppling over thanks to her drunkenness) in a play of power, and in a moment, Maleficent is on her back on the bed. A hand curls around the blonde's throat, too firm to be anything resembling playfulness, nails making little crescent shapes in pale skin.

Maleficent gasps against Regina's lips, the world spinning a little as slim fingers press into the arteries beneath her skin and a palm comes down on her windpipe. A moment later, the dragon gathers her strength and wits, and then shoves hard at Regina's shoulders. The smaller woman falls away from her and onto the soft blanket on the bed.

"Not like this," Maleficent growls, sitting up and glaring at the woman at the other end of the bed.

And Regina wants to argue _why_ because they've done this before – drunken fucks when one or both of them had been in pain and desperate.

She looks at Maleficent though, and sees soft blonde curls and shadowed blue eyes, irritated and yet concerned and confused. She sees a woman who is trying to make better choices despite her past, trying to be a better parent for her daughter. She sees a woman who has softened since Cruella died and Ursula left, and who has grown as a person.

They're both different people now, and maybe hurt and passion and darkness isn't them anymore.

They need more than letting one another succumb to dark desires and their inner demons.

And the Queen? She doesn't get to blindly take what she wants.

Regina claws her way to the surface, focussing on eyes like cold, grounding water, and curls that she wants to gently run her fingers through. Finally, she succeeds in shoving the Queen down and drowning out her indignant mental protests.

She shudders a gasp and curls in on herself. "I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. If our positions had been switched–" She settles on her knees on the bed and wraps her arms around herself.

She won't come apart because Maleficent doesn't deserve that guilt trip – unintentional or not.

Maleficent watches and then softens once more. "Regina," she sighs. "No harm came to me. You're forgiven." She shifts closer to the brunette once more, offering up comfort.

Regina's cheeks are damp and flushed and her breath is slightly laboured, and she's never looked less like that pristine and poised queen with her masks and manipulations.

This is the real deal, the real Regina without any false airs of strength, and she's hurting.

Maleficent curls an arm around Regina's small waist and brings them back into their earlier position.

Gentle. Delicate. Non-judging.

Accepting the comfort, Regina exhales shakily. "There's so much in my head, Mal," Regina admits, her voice small and wobbly. "She's so loud."

Regina thanks the gods that Maleficent's seen all of her, including the young, tearful queen, because whilst it means there's no hiding from her, it also means she can be weak around her.

She can be weak with Maleficent, and when she's ready, she can be strong for Henry and Emma and the Charmings without incident or judgement.

Maleficent is safe.

For a fire-breathing dragon.

She's sanctuary and she always has been.

The blonde pulls her closer and presses a soft kiss into dark hair. (She won't admit to it if Regina were to ask later.) "Regina," she whispers on an exhale. Then, more firmly, "You beat her before. You can do it again. If there's anyone who can make it through this and come out on top, it's you."

Regina shakes her head minutely and sniffs. "I'm so – I'm always so tired," she murmurs, her voice lower and less wet – coming from her chest rather than her throat. "I just want to rest."

"So rest, beastie," Maleficent reassures as warmly as Regina's ever heard her. She shifts away several inches and then lowers Regina's head into her lap. Regina goes willingly, allows herself to be gently manoeuvred into a more comfortable position and closes her eyes.

"I'll be here when you awake," the dragon promises, and Regina feels slender fingers run carefully through her hair; stroking, soothing, lulling her into easy sleep.

Regina exhales slowly through her nose and embraces the calm warm in her chest, tries to coax it out into her limbs, to the ends of her fingers and toes. There's still a jittering anxiety gnawing at her, though, despite everything, despite the calm that Mal brings, despite the drink in her system making her eyelids heavy.

Minutes pass, but she doesn't know how many – it could be a couple or it could be an hour – and then she finally mumbles sleepily, "What if this was a mistake, taking her back again?"

Maleficent's fingers pause in their absent stroking. She rests a palm on Regina's shoulder instead, the other on the top of Regina's head. Regina is curled up, knees nearly to her chest, impossibly small and miles from the larger than life queen. Her fingers tangle together in front of her, tense and visibly anxious in a way that she would normally never allow, and her eyes glisten warmly in the low light.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Maleficent cocks her head even though the action can't be seen.

Regina nods and turns to stare up at the older woman. It looks uncomfortable, and it must be because after a moment, Regina gives up and stares straight ahead once more.

"I think that she is a part of you just as much as Regina is, whether either of you like it or not," Maleficent states – no grandeur in her voice, no thoughtfulness, just calm, like she's stating a sure fact. "Without the Queen, you are incomplete, and the Queen is incomplete without you. You need her strength and decisiveness to protect yourself and your loved ones. She needs your compassion and stupid, unyielding hope–" Her voice softens, fondness and a shred of humour seeping into it. "–for her life to mean something."

And Regina knows that, she does, but it doesn't quite – connect. She knows in theory that she and the Queen need to be whole – that's why they'd merged in the first place; Regina had become a shadow of herself, unbalanced and subdued, and the Queen had run wild, invincible and her thirst for blood and power unsated. It always had to go this way, but Regina thinks that if she could just _suppress –_

It had been better when she'd been swallowing her violent instincts, right? When she'd beat the Queen down and contained her, that's when she'd finally been able to do good and have the family she's always wanted.

But she'd been so _tired,_ and maybe that had been the wrong way to go about it. Maybe –

"I think you both need to accept one another and reach a middle ground, and then you can be at peace," Maleficent finishes. "You both have good and bad parts of you, and it's no good swallowing the Queen down because you think she's the worst parts of you and nothing more."

Regina ponders that, creases her brow and just thinks, and it's – it's possible. Mal could be onto something.

She hums softly. "You could be right. How did you get so thoughtful?"

Maleficent chuckles, low and throaty. "I've always been thoughtful, beastie. You forget how much older than you I am."

Regina snorts at that and waves a hand in dismissal. When she speaks, her voice is still husky with the remnants of her tears but lighter than it has been all evening. "I think age gaps are officially meaningless where we come from. Just look at Rumple and Belle."

"I'd like to think we're doing a bit better than them," Mal teases, catching Regina's hand mid-air and lacing their fingers together.

"I trapped you in your dragon form for nearly three decades and then had you killed," Regina retorts, mostly playing despite the tinge of guilt that stains her tone.

And then it's Maleficent's turn to flick a wrist dismissively. "Details, details. You can make it up to me in some way."

Regina turns in the dragon's lap until she's on her back and staring up at her with a curious smile curling the corners of her lips. "Oh?" Her glazed eyes glint mischievously, and she draws their linked hands down, slipping out of Mal's grasp. She holds the dragon's slender wrist and takes one pale finger between her lips, biting down playfully and flicking her tongue teasingly against her fingertip.

She delights in the way Maleficent's eyes light up, bright blue and shining with amusement and a hint of arousal. "How would you have me do it?"

Maleficent remembers flashes of nights all those years ago, Regina's lithe body in compromising positions and more that they never got to try, but she pushes them all away with every bit of restraint she has. "You're drunk, my love – not tonight."

Regina's brow quirks up (and _that's_ the Queen, and Regina allows it because there must be some truth in what Mal said) because when did Mal ever care about that? They've done this a thousand times, one or both of them drunk or sober or high on magic or other substances. But then she remembers just a little earlier, and yes, they have both changed.

"I'm – turning over a new leaf," Maleficent says, taking her finger back and reaching for Regina's hand once more. "That is the phrase, isn't it?"

"Yes," Regina chuckles, and then sobers up. "For Lily?"

"For Lily," Maleficent agrees. "And for me. This…search for blood, it doesn't mean anything anymore. I have my child, and chasing revenge will only get us both hurt."

"It will," Regina says with a nod. She squeezes the hand in hers, and feels far more sober than she has all night despite the fact that the room is still spinning around her. "I'm proud of you."

"You always were a sap," Mal teases, nudging Regina's shoulder, but her eyes feel warm and things are so complicated right now, for Regina, with Lily, in Storybrooke in general, but _right_ now, things are –

They're ok. Weirdly.

Regina makes a hushing noise, but she's smiling and she curls in closer to the dragon, turning onto her side and pressing into the warmth of her tummy.

"I believe it will be ok, Regina," Maleficent promises quietly. "I saw the Queen born, and I know she's a protector, just like you. She exists to keep you safe, even if she goes about it in the wrong ways. She's not inherently bad." Her thumb rubs over Regina's knuckles, moving in repetitive circles.

Regina hums again, her eyes sliding shut. She can feel the Queen relax inside her, warmed by her old friend's words, and Regina thinks maybe that's why she'd said them.

And with the Queen's guard lowered a little, she feels more _whole_ than she has in a long time. There's still a separation – a difference between Regina and the Queen where they still scrape and bristle against one another, but Mal's words soothe like syrup seeping in around sharp edges and softening them. For once, they don't war against one another but rather curl into one another and take comfort in the same person, one bubble of warmth encapsulating the both of them until they become one.

It figures that if anyone could make the Queen this docile, it'd be a goddamn _dragon._

"No," Regina agrees softly. "She's not." She's barely audible, her words sleepily mumbled against Mal's body and her tongue thick with drink and weariness.

"Sleep now," the blonde says lowly, running her fingers through dark hair once more.

And Regina does, and she's not dumb enough to believe this is the end of the fight with herself, but it's a start.

It's a start, and a start is a hell of a lot closer than she was hours earlier.

A start is something.


End file.
